But We Will Never Be Here Again


When I think about The Eagles, the memory that comes immediately to my mind is of my mom and me when I was little. I’m sitting in the passenger seat of her car, sitting on my knees, with the shoulder strap of the seatbelt pulled down because it’s uncomfortable, and playing on the tape deck is The Eagles Greatest Hits 1971-1975.

This is easily the first album that I had memorized. Not just as in “Oh, I know all these songs,” but I knew the track listing and lyrics to every song by heart. I knew it opened with “Take it Easy,” and that side one finished with “Desperado.” I also just loved the shit out of all of the songs. The songs and album just felt like driving through the desert with my mom, singing along. It didn’t matter that I didn’t really understand any of the songs – I still get a giddy feeling when I hear the opening chords to “Take it Easy.”

Fast forward to about 4 years ago, when I was taking a group of dads and sons on a Sea Cave Kayaking trip for work. This one dad looked really familiar, but I kept thinking I must have seen him on other trips before. Then, I overheard him answer one of the guides question about ever visiting the Channel Islands with, “Oh, me and my buddy Joe Walsh used to come out here a lot.”

I nearly threw my kayak paddle into the Pacific Ocean, and then nearly hit my co-worker in the face with said paddle while trying to both excitedly share with her who this dad was, while also playing it cool. It didn’t help that my co-worker was not only several years younger than me, but was not born in this country and had no idea who Glenn Frey was, or The Eagles.

I got to know Glenn a little better on a couple other outings, and while I always let him believe I was too young know to who he was, after hearing of his passing,I regret not expressing my love of his music when I had the chance to do so, in person. The loss of David Bowie and Alan Rickman also hit me very hard this month, but there was something even more sad about reading of Glenn’s passing. He’s the same age as my mother, which still feels far to young to be gone, and I have such vivid memories of his music that it felt like a personal loss.

I’ve got to say, January 2016, I’m getting real tired of all these deaths, and you trying to make me actually feel my feelings like some kind of actual human being. Can we call a truce on the deaths of people I admire? Please?


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